Demon, Angel, Timelord
by Never Mind the Turtles
Summary: Post-CoLS. After breaking up with Alec, Magnus runs into a familiar character with a familiar blue box. Doctor Who/Mortal Instruments crossover. If you are not familiar with Doctor Who and especially the Tenth and Eleventh Doctors, chances are you will be very confused. Pairing Magnus/Alec, NOT Magnus/Doctor.
1. Chapter 1

**An Immortal Conversation**

Magnus strode down the deserted subway tunnel, thoughts whirling around his head and designer boots making no noise against the tile. Somewhere in the back of his mind it occurred to him that he had forgotten his pants and should be cold, but it didn't register fully. His hair felt dirty and rumpled. Yesterday's hairspray was not enough to stiffen its spikes and it kept flopping in his face. He brushed it away irritably. He hadn't bothered with makeup this morning, had been too eager to prove Camille wrong.

_He wouldn't do that. My Alec would never think to do such a thing to me. _Camille was lying again, of course. Manipulating him like she always had, trying to play with him like a puppet on a string. She had always treated him that way, as if he were an amusing object that for her to play with. Or perhaps a dog, trained to her beck and call. Thank the Angel he had gotten out of that relationship.

He shook his head, as if he could shake away the thoughts of Camille. The older he got, the more he found his mind wandering down rabbit trails and the harder it was to concentrate on the task at hand. He sighed and pushed his hair, which had cascaded down again, out of his face. He peered into the darkness, cat's eyes raking the gloom for any sign of the Shadowhunter he was tracking.

Nothing.

_Alec isn't here._

He breathed a sigh of relief. Of course Alec wasn't here. What would his boyfriend be doing in a place like this anyway? For that matter, what would Camille be doing down here? For as long as Magnus had known her, she had been one of those extravagant types. Not one to choose a deserted subway for a meeting place. This just proved that he couldn't trust Camille. She was only looking out for herself again, the lying—

Far ahead of him a light bloomed, where no light should be in this Godforsaken hole. White light, eerie in the gloom. Steady. Not like a flickering candle, and definitely not electric.

Witchlight.

Alec.

A warlock's anger is not like the anger of humans. Human anger is hot. It rises at a moment's notice and burns everything it its path. A warlock's anger is not hot. It does not burn. It is a cold animal with teeth of ice. An angry warlock can be the cruelest being on Earth.

Magnus kept walking until he stood just outside the illuminated circle, feeling the cold anger rise in the pit of his stomach. Alec must be very preoccupied. He didn't even look up as the warlock approached, didn't even notice him. Magnus would have been disappointed in him, if he were not too angry to care.

"Alec."

The figure holding the light stiffened.

"Alexander Gideon Lightwood."

Alec turned, very slowly. "Magnus?"

Magnus said nothing.

"Magnus," the boy said again. "I thought you were asleep."

"Evidently." The word came out cold, as if chipped from ice.

Breaking up with Alec was not as hard as he had anticipated. It almost worried him, how easy it was. It should have been much harder. It was almost as if someone else said the words, someone else pulled Camille's message out of his pocket and brandished it, someone else told Alec to collect his things and leave the key on the diningroom table. Someone who, unbidden, brought up reason after reason why he should be done with the boy, and his family, and the entire race of Nephilim. He was sick of doing their dirty work, sick of being their pet warlock, sick of being the one they came running to for favors. Sick of being caught up in their stupid little war.

"There is a war coming, Alexander, and you don't want your loyalties to be questioned. Do you?"

Alec shook his head, eyes locked on Magnus's face. Magnus felt a twinge of remorse—but only a twinge. Not enough to counteract the three hundred years' worth of resentment to the Nephilim now coursing through his veins.

He turned to go. He felt stiff and sore, as if the breakup had hurt him physically even if it hadn't hurt mentally. He could also feel Alec watching him, willing him to come back, hoping that he hadn't meant what he'd said.

He didn't care.

It wasn't until the fourth or fifth deserted tunnel intersection that the cold fist of anger began to loosen somewhat and he started to wonder if maybe he had made a mistake. Maybe he had spoken to hastily.

_No, _whispered a voice in his ear. _You were right. You need to untangle yourself from the Nephilim. What have they ever done for you? You were right to take a stand, to refuse to be their lapdog anymore._

Magnus blinked, unsure for a moment if the voice was even his own. It certainly sounded like it. He was about to investigate further when his finely-tuned ear caught the tail end of a very strange sound. He stopped short, head up, pupil slits widening even further in the dark, searching for the source of the sound. It was almost familiar, almost something that he remembered. Something was tickling the back of his mind,-half a memory, mostly forgotten, from a very long time ago. A light, flashing, and that sound…

He couldn't come up with the memory completely, but something about it made him feel the need to investigate further. Besides, he didn't have anything better to do. He'd lied to Alec about having to be out all afternoon, and now it was either find something to do or wander around the park until evening.

He came to a sudden decision and wheeled around, following the left-hand tunnel from which the sound had come.

Five minutes later, nearly out of breath, Magnus stumbled around a corner and stopped, clutching the wall for support with one hand and his aching chest with the other. His wound wasn't healing as quickly as he would like it to, and any amount of exercise could set if off again. Not so silently, he cursed Amatis's dagger. Then he cursed Amatis herself, and the Dark Cup and Sebastian, and threw in Shadowhunters and demons in general just to round it out. He had just begun on Valentine's unsatisfactory origins and his mother's likely disreputable ancestors when an unfamiliar voice interrupted him.

"Hallo, who are—oh it's you again."

The warlock looked up quickly and found himself nearly nose-to-nose with a man he did not recognize.

"What do you mean, it's me again," Magnus said roughly, rather unappreciative that his cursing session had been disrupted. "I've never seen you before in my life, and if you don't mind I'd like to keep it that way."

"Oh come now, you don't really mean that, do you?" The man stood and backed away slightly, enough for Magnus to get a bit of a better look at him.

He wore a trench coat over a blue pinstriped suit—and looked rather snazzy in it too, Magnus couldn't help but notice. He also had something silver and blue sticking out of his breast pocket.

The almost-memory in Magnus's mind sharpened a bit—a memory of a man, quite different from this one, using a blue and silver stick—he had called it some sort of screwdriver, Magnus remembered, though it had been years before the modern screwdriver had been invented—to break a werewolf out of prison. Magnus had helped with that. Unknowingly, but still. He had helped, and afterword the man had made him an offer.

"Hold on…" His brain whirred and clicked through several different processes at once in an effort to reconcile what was standing in front of him with the picture in his head. He closed his eyes, then blinked twice and came up with an answer he liked. "Doctor."

"See? See? He does recognize me," the man—the Doctor—said triumphantly to no one in particular. "I knew he'd get to it eventually. He's a smart one, is our…"

"Magnus Bane."

"Magnus Bane! Right! I knew it had to start with an M." He peered at Magnus, a bit more closely than was comfortable. "You don't look good."

Magnus realized that he was still clutching his chest and dropped his hand quickly, straightening up. "I'm fine. Just…a side cramp."

"A warlock with a side cramp. I don't think I've met one of those before.."

Magnus closed his eyes again. He wasn't sure he could handle this man's energy at the moment.

"Tell you what," the Doctor said, leaning in as if it was strictly confidential. "Why don't you come back with me for a cup of tea. You do look like you could use one."

"Well…" Magnus's mind had wandered back to his last memory of the man, and the long ago offer that he had made. Not that he was considering it, not really. Just…letting himself remember. Besides, one cup of tea couldn't hurt, could it? "All right."

"Good!" The Doctor beamed at him, as if that one affirmative had truly brightened his day. Magnus didn't remember his Doctor reacting quite like this one did. "TARDIS is this way."

He led the way down the right-hand tunnel, moving with such speed that even if Magnus had not been wounded he would have had trouble keeping up. Ducking around corners and through impossibly narrow walkways, they finally reached a secluded corner, far away from where anyone in their right mind would think to come looking. It made Magnus wonder if he even was in his right mind.

"Here we are," the Doctor said proudly, stopping so quickly that Magnus nearly ran into him from behind. He waved his hand at a darkened corner. Magnus squinted and could just make out the blue box standing in the shadows.

"Rather majestic, don't you think? I parked her there specially."

"Quite," Magnus agreed, looking the police box over. It looked exactly how he remembered it, now that he thought about it, down to the ding in the paint on the lower left corner, and the sign on the door that said "Pull".

"Come on in, make yourself comfortable, " the Doctor said, ushering him inside. "I'll get the tea. _Don't _touch anything that looks like it needs to be touched," he added, before disappearing down one of the hallways that Magnus had not noticed before.

The warlock skirted the large octagonal control deck, giving the many inviting, shiny buttons a wide berth. He was not surprised to see that the box was much bigger on the inside than the outside. Leading the life that he did, most things had ceased to surprise him long ago. He sat gingerly on the dilapidated brown couch, avoiding the springs that stuck through the stuffing. _Not exactly a mansion._

The Doctor returned, juggling a steaming teapot and two mugs managed to set them on the control deck with only one bad spill and a minimal amount of swearing. Magnus decided against asking how he had gotten the tea so fast.

"All right then," the Doctor said, painstakingly pouring them each a cup. Half-way through filling each cup to the exact same amount, he seemed to remember something and looked up in surprise. "You didn't touch anything."

"No...should I have? I was under the impression that you told me not to."

"Well, yes, but most people take it as an invitation to play with as many things as possible."

"Oh." Magnus felt as if it had disappointed the man in some way. "I was brought up to obey rules, given that in my world disobeying them generally means either a slow, painful death or a quick and still painful death."

The Doctor nodded. "I see." He handed Magnus a full mug of tea. Magnus took it, wrapping his long fingers around it. He was suddenly painfully aware of how cold he was, and that he was not wearing any pants. The Doctor seemed to have come to the same realization and glanced down at Magnus's bare, though admittedly quite handsome, legs. "I don't suppose you would be interested in looking through my wardrobe?"  
Magnus nodded, self-consciously tugging on the hem of his coat. He was slightly surprised at how uncomfortable he was. Usually such attire would not bother him. Still, it wasn't everyday that he met someone who was as much his senior as the Doctor was.

"Down the hall, to the right."

Magnus turned in the direction that the Doctor pointed.

"No, wait. That's the kitchen. Down the hall to the _left, _second door on your right, through the pool room, third door on the left, straight ahead, up the stairsm past the bins, second door on your right."

Magnus went.

Forty-five minutes, six wrong turns and a pair of neon green pants later, he managed to find his way back to the control room. "Doctor," he said.

The Doctor turned around from where he had been studying the monitor. "Yes?"

"Why do you have a gymnasium in your bathroom?"

"Do I? That's odd, last I checked the bathroom went with the swimming pool and the gym was in the kitchen. You've been rearranging on me again, haven't you, old girl?" He gave the wall a hearty slap and a caress. Magnus gave up and picked up his mug.

"My tea's cold."

"Well, did you expect it to stay nice and hot just for you? You've been gone nearly an hour."

"It wasn't my fault that the gymnasium was in the bathroom." He looked into his mug and saw himself staring back out of the dark liquid. _I look awful._

It was true. His hair was a mess, half up and half down and terribly tangled. His eyes looked like a raccoon's, mascara forming a black crescent underneath them. He looked pale, too, as if he were sick. Giving up on his reflection, he took a sip of cold tea.

"I've been watching you."

Magnus forced himself to not choke but instead swallow the tea in a civilized manner. Once he had managed that, and blinked the tear of effort from his eyes, he set the cup down. "You what."

"I've been watching you." The Doctor leaned forward, eyes on Magnus's face.

"What kind of watching, exactly?"

"The kind of watching in which I pop up randomly when I know you won't notice and make sure you're all right."

Magnus's mind flashed unbidden to that party, months ago, when he'd first laid eyes on Alec. Come to think of it, one of the vampires hadn't really been pale enough or nasty enough to be part of Raphael's clan. He'd been too busy to notice then, but…

"Do I want to know why?"

"I've met you twice in person, Magnus Bane. Do you remember that?"

He did remember. He remembered the strange man who had shown up out of nowhere, who had broken the werewolf out of the Clave prison and consequently saved the wolf's pack from entirely probable mass destruction, as well as other nasty things. He also remembered another time, so long ago he had nearly forgotten. A Charles Dickens reading that he had attended, and a demon-possessed woman, obviously dead, screaming and screaming with blue smoke pouring out of her mouth. The Doctor ad been there then, too, chasing the woman. He had disappeared that night, but had come back the next day, to talk specifically to Magnus.

"You were different then."

"I was different then. I am different now. I will continue to be different, because different is my specialty." He began to play absentmindedly with his blue stick—his sonic screwdriver, Magnus remembered suddenly. "Both times that we talked, I made you an offer. Do you remember that?"

Magnus nodded. "I do."

"And have you given any more thought to that offer?"

Magnus was silent. He remembered the offer, certainly. And he had given thought to it. Much thought, especially recently. But it had been a full century at least since he had seen the Doctor, and he had assumed that the last time he had turned him down, it was final. Now, suddenly, he was presented with the choice again, quite probably for the last time. Suddenly he had to make his decision.

"Well?" The Doctor was watching him intently, waiting on tenterhooks for his answer.

"I am old, Doctor," he said finally. "I am much older now than I was the last time you asked me."

The Doctor was silent, still watching him.

"I have seen everything there is to see on this Earth, done everything that it is possible to do. I had hoped to grow old and die with someone I loved, but it seems that will not be possible."

"And…?"

"Before I make my decision, Doctor, I would like to ask you a question."

"Shoot."

"Why me?"

The Doctor sat back, setting his mug on the control desk. "Well," he said.

Magnus waited.

"Well," he said again. Then: "I don't know. You caught my eye, I guess, that one night at the Dickens reading. You remember that?"

"Yes, you ran onto the stage shouting about a dead woman."

"Yes, then. You caught my eye and I knew you weren't human. And not only that you weren't human but that you were immortal. And, well, I figured that you would be a good match."

"But surely, Doctor, there are other warlocks. All of them are just as immortal as I am."

"Well, yes. But none of them are Magnus Bane."

Magnus thought about that for a moment. Then he thought about his past and his future. He had been bored of the Earth for some time now, wanted to get away, to do something else. He had tried to bury the feeling with glitter and parties and the occasional slaying of a demon—and, of course, Alec. Now Alec wasn't an option. Magnus was not one to go back on his word. And without Alec, the future didn't look so inviting after all.

"I am tired of this world. Tired of it's petty troubles and its humans who die to soon. I need something different. Something new."

"So you'll do it?" The Doctor was still staring at him intently, hanging on his every word. Magnus hadn't know this was so important to him, although he could see why it would be. He understood how hard it could be to be immortal, to watch your friends grow old and die without ever suffering the same fate yourself. His mind raced, weighing pros and cons, struggling to make a decision.

"I—" He stopped, still unsure.

"The TARDIS," the Doctor said.

Magnus blinked at the sudden change of subject. "What about it?"

"Did I tell you it's a time machine?"

Magnus took a moment to process this information. Then: "I'll do it," he said finally.

The Doctor looked at him for a long moment, a smile slowly spreading across his face. He blinked, and then stood up so fast that he dropped his mug. "You'll do it?" he repeated, as if unable to believe it. "You really mean it?"

Magnus, tired as he was, couldn't help but smile at his enthusiasm. "I'll do it," he confirmed. "I'll travel with you. To the farthest reaches of the universe," he added, quoting what the Doctor had said when he had first asked.

"To the farthest reaches of the universe," the Doctor repeated, picking up his cup and raising it as if making a toast. "The tea's gone," he added as an afterthought, having tried to drink it.

"Here, have mine," Magnus offered, handing him his cold cup.

"No time," the Doctor said, putting the cup down and reaching for the controls. "Where to first?"

"You choose."

"Brilliant. There's this lovely little planet orbiting the star Onyxeferous with a very nice atmosphere and these beaches that are just…brilliant. What say you?"

Magnus felt a strange kind of excitement rising in him. "That sounds brilliant."

"Brilliant!" The Doctor pushed several buttons and pulled a lever. "We're off, then. Allons-y!"

The ship shuddered and shook, making that strange sound that had brought Magnus here in the first place.

"Prepare to meet the universe, Magnus Bane."


	2. Chapter 2

_A/N: Okay, so here is a thing. It has plotholes and logic fails like you would not believe, and also I'm not too sure about the spelling. This story will be updated approximately whenever I feel like it, which could mean anywhere from every week to once every two years. I promise nothing and I make no apologies._

* * *

**A Lack of Bodily Fluids**

Magnus woke slowly to a sort of warbling caterwaul that penetrated his dreams like a knife. A very pitchy, off-key knife that was in serious need of voice lessons. He pulled the blankets over his head in an effort to block out the sound and go back to sleep.

_So tired…_

His efforts were entirely wasted, however, and after several moments of trying he gave up. As he slowly returned to consciousness he became aware of a dull, pounding ache that pervaded his head. It felt like someone had taken a sledgehammer to his brain.

_So tired…_

Come to think of it, his eyes felt fuzzy too, and his stomach was threatening an attempt at an appearance. His tongue felt thick and dry, the way it did after a night of drinking. Actually, all of him felt like it did after a night of drinking, though he was fairly sure he hadn't been.

Fairly sure. He always had a bit of difficulty with details after a night such as would cause a hangover like this. Still, he was usually able to at least remember at least what he had been drinking. Now he drew a complete blank. He didn't even remember going to bed, and that was usually memorable enough. He hoped he hadn't forgotten to feed Chairman Meow.

As he didn't seem to be having any luck in the going-back-to-sleep department despite still feeling dead tired, he turned his willpower from attempting to lose consciousness to doing his best to remember something—anything—from last night. Nothing. Just…blank. He remembered vaguely that he had been angry, incredibly angry. What had made his so mad? Anger wasn't an emotion that he usually felt.

It was Alec. That was it. He had been angry with Alec. But what had Alec done that could make his so angry? He couldn't remember. Had he…offended him, maybe? Or disobeyed him…he couldn't remember exactly.

He had been in bed. That he remembered quite clearly. He had been sick. No, wounded, that was it. He had been wounded. He reached up reflexively and massaged his chest, which still ached slightly. How had he been wounded?

A battle, probably. Unless it was a very, very angry customer, but that seemed unlikely. He generally required that all weapons were left at the door before he would do any magic. He had gotten an accidental knife to the thigh one to many times not to take that precaution.

So that pretty much ruled out the angry-customer theory. But if it wasn't a customer, it must have been a battle, though why he had been battling he didn't know. He mostly left the dirty work for the Nephilim. So why…?

He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to concentrate. This whole being-unable-to-remember-anything deal was making him very uncomfortable. His head hurt too much to think properly, and the wailing coming from somewhere to his left wasn't helping. Funny, he had never really though of Alec as the singing-in-the-shower type before.

He let it go for a few more minutes, but finally had enough.

"Would you _shut up?" _He sat up, dumping the covers unceremoniously on the floor, ready to slap his boyfriend. As soon as he did so, two things occurred to him at once.

1. He had heard Alec sing, and it didn't sound anything like that.

2. This was not his bedroom.

The room was clean, at least. Also white. Very, very white. The walls were white, the floor was white, the ceiling was pristine. Even the bed he was lying in was white. All of the white was too bright and it made his eyes hurt in a way that he couldn't remember them hurting before. The only color he could see in the room came from the neon green pants he was wearing.

He didn't remember owning any neon green pants.

The yowling—which, upon further inspection, had been coming from behind a door to Magnus's left—cut off abruptly, to be replaced by a very indignant voice.

"Don't tell me to shut up, I'm _singing!"_

The voice was familiar—almost—he knew he'd heard it before. Not only before, but recently. Very recently. It was tickling his brain, he could almost remember…

He shook his head in frustration and was immediately reminded that he had a pounding headache. Pain blossomed behind his eyes, making his vision go fuzzy. He thought briefly about trying to rid himself of the ache, but after a moment of debate decided against it. He'd sworn off attempting magic with a headache since a rather memorable experience involving a jug of sour milk, an accidental and very short-lived hamster and his favorite blue scarf. Besides, trying to cure an ailment without knowing the cause was just asking for trouble, and he rather enjoyed being shaped like a human instead of a sausage.

In an attempt to distract himself from the pain, he studied the room around him. One could never be too sure of one's surroundings, and while he was fairly sure he wasn't in danger it never hurt to make note of any possible escape routes.

The room, as he had noticed, was white, and clean to the point of bareness. It reminded him of the one time he'd been in Jace's room in the Institute, which was not an experience he desired to repeat. There was a door—white, of course—to his left. Closed. The "singing", which had once again been resumed, could be heard beyond it. Also the promising sound of a shower, for which Magnus was grateful. From the feel of it, he hadn't showered in at least two days, probably more.

There was another door, to his right, also white and also closed. Nothing about it gave any hint to what might lie beyond. Magnus made a note of it as a possible escape route. Directly across from him was another bed—a cot, really—identical to his. It was in a spectacular state of disarray, and a brown trench coat was thrown carelessly across the foot. Magnus eyed the coat enviously. He had always meant to purchase a coat like that—could imagine himself sweeping grandly around town with it—but he'd somehow never gotten around to it. Maybe it had something to do with the fact that Alec hated trench coats—

He found himself drawing away from the thought of Alec. Something incredibly painful lurked there, and while he didn't know what it was he knew that he didn't want to dwell on it.

Fortunately, a distraction made itself known just then. Unfortunately, it emerged from the bathroom wearing only a towel.

"You're awake, then," he—the towel-clad man—greeted Magnus. "I was beginning to get worried. I've been waiting for you to regain consciousness for three hours, at least."

Magnus looked at the man bemusedly. He looked so incredibly familiar, but the warlock couldn't put him in any sort of context. He wasn't a Downworlder—Magnus would know instantly if he were. He couldn't be Nephilim, because no Shadowhunter he knew of besides Alec—there was that pain again—would dream of standing in front of a warlock in only a towel. Well, Jace might, but this man definitely wasn't Jace.

The only option left, then, was mundane, which seemed very unlikely. Unless he was something else entirely….

"I'm sorry, do I know you?" he asked as politely as he could, praying that the man wouldn't get offended. It usually wasn't a good idea to offend your host, whether you were a voluntary houseguest or not. But the man simply gave him a look that Magnus couldn't fathom—not surprise, really, and not concern, but something in between—and told him not to move, he would be right back.

Magnus was beginning to get seriously worried about this memory-loss thing.

The man was back in five minutes, thankfully fully clothed and carrying the towel, which he dropped on the bed. He picked up the trench coat and shrugged it on, "Because everything is better in a trench coat," he said to Magnus's questioning look.

"Do I know you?" Magnus asked again, because he knew that he _did, _he just couldn't think why, and he hoped that the answer would give him some clue as to why he had no memory from the last few days. And also because he couldn't think of anything more intelligent to say.

"Yes," said the man, "you do. I'm the Doctor. Believe me, you know me. You remember who you are, I hope?"

"Magnus Bane, High Warlock of Brooklyn," Magnus answered promptly, and then tried to remember why that was important.

"Good. Right. I thought TARDIS travel might have that effect on you."

"What effect? What's a TARDIS?"

"Time and Relative Dimension in Space. The effect of amnesia. Your memory loss. Out of curiosity, what's the last thing you remember?"

Magnus thought, trying to come up with something recent. He finally settled on the fact he'd remembered earlier, because he at least knew that was true. "I was in bed, yesterday morning. At least, I think it was yesterday…?" A question mark snuck into the end of the sentence as he realized he wasn't actually sure.

"Is that all? Do you remember anything else?"

"Er…" He was finding it difficult to concentrate, and his vision was working funny. Everything seemed to bright, and too dulled at the same time. It was not helping his headache in the least. "…No."

The Doctor looked slightly disappointed, but all he said was, "Ah, well, it could have been worse."

"Will I get it back? My memory?"

"What? Oh. Oh, yeah, of course. Give it a couple of hours."

Thankful for that, Magnus asked, "Why that particular effect on me?"

"Because you're a warlock. You're half-demon, half-human, right? Don't look at me like that; I've done my fair share of research on warlocks. I'm not your average mundane." He smiled at the look on Magnus's face. "If you're going to travel with me, you're going to have to get used to me knowing things. So you know you're half-and-half. But did you ever stopped to wonder what that actually _means?"_

"No?" Magnus guessed, hoping it was the right answer. Although from the looks of it, the Doctor was going to tell him what it actually meant whatever he said.

"It means, your body is literally made of two different substances: demon and human."

"I'm pretty sure human is more than one substance," Magnus interjected. The Doctor ignored him.

"And not everything is divided equally. Some parts of you are mostly human, and some parts are mostly demon. The bits of your brain that take care of anger and rational decision, for instance, are made of mostly demon, while the bits that you would call the heart—the ones that take care of the feeling you would call "love"—are mostly human. Brilliant, isn't it?" The Doctor grinned, as if he'd just presented Magnus with a birthday cake.

"Brilliant. Sure," said Magnus, wondering how this fit in with the memory loss.

"Well, demons, as you would describe them, are inter-dimensional beings that travel from world to world, destroying everything in their path. Yes?"

Magnus nodded.

"Unfortunately for them, the demons' other-dimensional door spans only your galaxy. They can travel to any dimension that they want, but in your dimension their reign of destruction extends only throughout the Milky Way. We are currently several thousand light-years away from your Milky Way, and as such the demon part of you has been left behind somewhere along the third spiral arm of your galaxy, where it will remain safe and sound until you return. So you are, currently, for all intents and purposes currently known, fully and completely human. Although still immortal. Don't ask me why, because I doubt you'll understand the answer. You'll just have to settle for 'the Screwdriver says so' and be happy with that."

Magnus stared at him for a moment, waiting for this tremendous amount of information to sink in. _Demon part…left behind…fully and completely human. Demon part…left behind…fully and completely human. Demon part…_

Almost without knowing what he was doing, Magnus stood and lunged for the bathroom, ignoring the flaring pain in his head. The mirror was fogged over still from the hot water; he quickly rubbed a spot clean and stared into it.

Eye looked back at him. Not his eyes. His eyes were green and gold and most importantly, catlike. These eyes were green and dark brown and flecked with gold, and human. Most definitely human. He blinked. They blinked. He slowly lowered his left eyelid. The left eye in the mirror slowly lowered its lid. He reached up and touched his face. In the mirror, a long slim hand reached up to caress the eye.

Those human eyes now belonged to him. That would explain the weird vision problems. And if he had human eyes, that must also mean…

Feeling slightly foolish, Magnus nudged the door shut and then slowly lifted his shirt and looked down at his stomach.

A bellybutton stared back at him, looking as though it had always been there. He touched it gingerly and flinched, almost expecting it to hurt. It didn't hurt, it just felt…strange. Alien. Definitely not his own.

"Something wrong?"

Magnus started and dropped his hand quickly. The Doctor was looking in through the crack in the door. "No. I just…" He stopped, hotly embarrassed. He could feel himself flushing. "I've never had a bellybutton before."

The Doctor raised his eyebrows, clearly at a bit of a loss for a response. "Oh," he said finally, and disappeared around the corner—the reappeared suddenly as Magnus's legs betrayed him and he crashed to the floor. "Ah…right. You may feel some other, shall we say, ill effects."

"Ouch," said Magnus.

"Right," the Doctor said again, nudging the door open. He picked up Magnus as if he were a rag doll and carried him out of the bathroom to deposit him on the bed. "You're a bit low on fluids at the moment, as well as some other things. You might want to spend a bit more time in bed. I'm going to get you some water. Stay there." He left.

Magnus leaned back against the pillow and rubbed his temples. His headache was getting worse, and the light in the room hurt his eyes. He missed his cat's eye pupils that could narrow down to slits if the light was too bright. His stomach wasn't feeling any better either, and when the Doctor returned to the room carrying a glass of water Magnus was sitting up, bent over double and trying to keep his stomach from making a never-before-seen appearance along with everything inside it.

The Doctor eyed the mess with distaste. "I'll just…clean that up a moment, shall I?"

"Sure," Magnus agreed weakly.

"You need liquid," the Doctor informed him half an hour later, handing him the glass of water. Magnus had been transferred to the Doctor's bed on the other side of the room, and his own cot had been stripped down to the bedstead, soiled sheets sent off to the laundry. "Most of your liquid got left behind in your galaxy, and you need to replace it."

Magnus gave him a blank stare. He sighed.

"I suppose you want an explanation. All right. Well, see, a demon is mostly non-existent in your dimension." He held up his hand to Magnus's indignant "I beg to differ". "Believe me, if you wanted to go knock on, say, Marbas's door in his own dimension, you would not recognize him. He'd be, oh, six hundred times more powerful than when you've seen him, give or take."

Magnus made a mental note never to visit a demon's home dimension.

"But when he comes to earth, he's shrunk down to one-six hundredth of himself. The physical form that you see is all that he can manage, and trust me, it's _tiny _compared to what he's used to. He's mostly just essence, floating around in the air. That's what causes the stink that you humans smell.

"He can't hold his physical form together for long. Two years, three years, sometimes a few more if it's a really powerful demon, some Greater Demons can manage nearly ten—and then he either has to t go home or he loses his control over his physical body and collapses into air-polluting essence,

"So when someone like you is born—a warlock, someone who is literally made of demonic substance—we have a bit of a problem. Obviously, half of you does not disintegrate when you are two years old, although that would be very entertaining. Instead, the demon essence has the exact opposite effect: It makes you immortal. The way it does this is incredibly complicated and scientific, but the really, really simple version is that it turns itself into the liquid inside your body—because liquid is less, well, _solid _than solids—and working from inside the liquid it turns your cells into something that, while still human, is a sort of container that it can hide inside. So remember how I was saying that parts of you are literally demon?" Magnus nodded. "The parts of you that are literally demon are mostly liquid, and that got left behind with the rest of the demon part of you. Now not only have you lost a good half of your bodily fluids, which is not something all bodies can handle, but your cells have to learn to operate without the demon controlling them. Does that make any sense at all?

Magnus shook his head slightly, then quickly changed his mind and nodded. Memory was coming back in bits and pieces, and he vaguely recalled the Doctor talking for several hours last night about something he didn't understand. Something about intergalactic data storage and retrieval systems for research in some galaxy he'd never heard of. The man had talked until he had exhausted himself, and Magnus still didn't have a clue what he was going on about. He didn't really fancy repeating the experience. Instead he said, "You knew I would get sick?"  
"It was a very good possibility, yes," the Doctor admitted.

"I could have _died. _And you didn't tell me?"

The Doctor looked uncomfortable. "I didn't want to…compromise your decision to come with me."

"So you lied to me by omission, just so that you would be sure I would come with you?"

"Something like that, yeah," the Doctor mumbled, suddenly very preoccupied with the hem of his coat.

"And you knew I could have _died?"_

"Well, in all technicality, there wasn't a very good chance of you dying—"

"I had _half of my body removed. _And you say I couldn't have died?"

"Warlocks are very resilient!"

"Maybe I'll removed your bodily fluids and see how you like it."

The Doctor looked, if possible, even more sheepish. "Oh yeah, and there's that…"

Magnus looked at him sharply. "And there's _what, _exactly?"

"We-ell…"

Magnus gave him his most withering stare. "Yes?"

"Your, ah, magic. You might find it, um, a little hard to access. Or possibly impossible." He added the last bit so fast that Magnus barely caught it.

"What?"

"Well, what you call 'magic', the little doodly things with the blue fire and such? That's caused by a chemical reaction between the human substance and the demon essence. And without the demon essence…"

"There's no reaction," Magnus said flatly. "So let me get this straight. You practically kidnap me, haul me off to who knows where—where are we anyway? No, don't answer that—remove nearly all of my bodily fluids and practically kill me, _and _you take my magic? How is that fair?"

"You _said _you would come with me. We had an _agreement," _the Doctor insisted. "It was of your own free will!"

"Free will my foot. I'm pretty sure that you are honor-bound to list the dangers to one's life when one agrees to travel with you."  
"You want me to list _all _of the dangers to your life?" The Doctor looked at him, aghast. "You'll double lifespan in that time! Good Lord, man, did I give the impression that travel with me was _safe? _I have got to be doing something wrong." He scratched his head as if trying to figure out just what it was that he was doing wrong. "Was it the tea? I heard somewhere that offering people tea gave the impression of safety. Maybe I should stop doing that."

Magnus stared at him. He was beginning to get the distinct impression that his new companion was more than a little bit insane. "You just took my magic…and you're worried about tea."

"I didn't _take _your magic, it just sort of got left behind. Nothing I could do about it, okay? At least you're still immortal."

"Because that was the best thing about being a warlock. I am very close to making you take me back to earth, Doctor."

The Doctor looked downright alarmed. "But…you _promised. _I went through all this work getting you to come with me and you want to leave?"

Magnus leaned back and closed his eyes. His headache was pounding again. "I think I will faint," he said, which was true although said more to get the Doctor to shut up than anything.

"Right. Here, drink this."

He felt the nearly-forgotten glass of water being shoved against his hand. "Thanks."

"Sleep now. I'll be in the control room; yell if you need me."

"Okay." Magnus put the glass on the nightstand and pulled the blankets over his head. Vaguely he was aware of the Doctor leaving, and after a few moments the caterwauling began again, though considerably farther off than the last time. Magnus groaned and turned over to cover his head with a pillow. He was almost asleep when he felt a twinge somewhere around his midsection. A twinge that he was very familiar with.

Someone—someone strong—was tracking him.

* * *

_A/N: Yes, a crappy not-quite-cliffhanger ending because reasons. Also, I do have a reason for Magnus's continued immortality, so it's not technically a plothole._


	3. Announcement, Not an Update (Sorry!)

**Hello lovely people! This is unfortunately not an update. Sorry. This is an announcement saying that I am discontinuing Demon Angel Timelord down FOR THE TIME BEING. It needs some reconfiguring and redrafting because plotholes. Do not fear, it will be back up soon, or as soon as I can work everything out to my satisfaction. Also it will be wonderful so please stick around. I'll probably post it as a new story but I'll leave an update here for those of you who are following only this story. Thank you for reading my at times pathetic attempt at fanfictioning and have a lovely night.**

**Oh, and also, I have most of the plotline written out but if you have ideas for it, leave them in the reviews and I'll see if I can work them in. Sorry, no sexytimes, you do NOT want me to try to write those because it will be an epic failure. Thanks!**


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